


North And South

by celestialceci, nellasera



Series: Zutara One Shots [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Banter, Definitely inspired by medieval jousting either way, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fire Lord Iroh, Fluff, Humor, Northern water tribe Sexism, Romantic Comedy, Shorter War, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Zutara Quote Challenge, sorta???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialceci/pseuds/celestialceci, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nellasera/pseuds/nellasera
Summary: An annual bending tournament is held to foster continued peace between the nations, and Prince Zuko is determined to finally win. There's only one problem: this year his rivalry and bickering with Princess Katara reaches new and even more distracting heights.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar)
Series: Zutara One Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993336
Comments: 22
Kudos: 120
Collections: Zutara Quote Challenge 2020





	North And South

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely [CelestialCeci](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialCeci/pseuds/CelestialCeci) and I have collaborated to bring you this fic for the Zutara Prompt Challenge!
> 
> This is a (arguably quite loose) interpretation of this prompt: "He shrank from hearing (Katara’s) very name mentioned; he, while he blamed her - while he was jealous of her - while he renounced her - he loved her sorely, in spite of himself." from North & South.
> 
> We sincerely hope you enjoy!

Zuko almost immediately regretted walking onto the deck of the ship to get fresh air when he was met by biting, ice-cold gusts of wind that chilled him to the bone within seconds.

Zuko meandered to the railing, watching the ship cut through the freezing water and dodge chunks of floating ice. If the drastic change in climate and scenery was anything to go by, they were nearing their destination. Another blast of glacial wind rattled the deck, and this time Zuko cursed, inhaling deeply and puffing out a stream of fire and smoke so that he wouldn’t start shivering. It ignited his blood and warmed him to his fingertips, but the effect in the polar climate was short-lived. He was just about to give up and go back inside when Uncle Iroh’s voice sounded from behind him.

“I was just looking for you, Prince Zuko. You’ll be needing this.”

Zuko turned to see his Uncle brandishing a parka at him. Though the style was very much Water Tribe—with warm fur lining the cuffs of the sleeves, the hems, the waist, and insulating the hood—the color was not blue, but a deep Fire Nation red. Iroh was wearing one just like it and appeared pleasantly warm. “They were sent as gifts from the Water Tribe,” Iroh went on, smiling. “Here.”

After taking it and slipping it on, Zuko felt instant relief from the frigid, arctic cold. Still, his movements felt slower, more restricted. “I won’t be able to compete wearing this,” he said.

“Probably not,” Iroh agreed. “But it will certainly help for the rest of the time.”

It was silent for a few moments as they watched the ocean, the ship gliding silently along.

“Such a shame about the setting,” Iroh commented finally.

“I thought you liked visiting the Water Tribes, Uncle.” It was Zuko’s third year competing in the annual bending games and peace summit, having only been permitted to watch in the years before that; and he was determined to win his fights this time.

“Oh, I do,” said Iroh. “But the Northern Water Tribe has very strict rules about who may enter the ring. Many people are unhappy.” He glanced at his nephew, a slight glimmer in his eyes. “Chief Hakoda wrote to tell me that Princess Katara is very upset indeed.”

A jolt that had nothing to do with the cold ran up Zuko’s spine.

 _Katara_.

 _Well, good_ , he told himself, rather viciously, wrinkling his nose.

That woman was nothing but trouble every year when they were forced in close proximity, and there was nothing he liked more than riling her up. Except maybe not being around her at all. She seemed to dominate every room she was in, commanding his attention, bickering with him, distracting him from his goal: winning.

And he had to win.

If the future Fire Lord couldn’t win a simple bending stand-off, people would never respect him.

Still, curiosity led him to press. “What do you mean? Why?”

“It would be the first year she is of age to compete,” explained Iroh. “But the Northern Water Tribe has, ah... _very_ strong opinions on how women should or should not use their bending.”

Zuko just stared at him. “They’re not letting women fight?”

Iroh shook his head. “They are unwilling to compromise on the issue. We tried to move the venue to the Southern Water Tribe instead, but the North took great offense. They threatened to pull out of the peace summits, citing that others were not respecting their culture. It doesn’t help that there’s still a whole lot of tension between the sister tribes also.”

Zuko pursed his lips. Hearing things like this did not make him eager for the day when the Fire Lord crown currently nestled in Iroh’s top bun would be passed down to him.

Unwittingly, Princess Katara’s face flitted across his mind, and there was a flare of indignation on her behalf before he reminded himself that she was awful and he despised her. He hated how good at bending she was, that stupid smirk she threw him whenever she did something to irritate him, and all of her self-righteous, passionate anger that always seemed to be directed right at him. Just thinking about the way her face would pull together and her eyes would blaze at him made him scowl and his heartbeat quicken.

Ugh. He wasn’t even _around_ her yet. It was as though she lived to aggravate him.

“Here, Prince Zuko.” Iroh was handing him a pair of gloves now, and just like the parka, they were clearly designed by the Water Tribe for Fire Nation citizens. “You’ll need these, too.”

Another blast of wind whistled past the ship.

Yes, he certainly would.

“Thank you, Uncle,” he said, taking the gloves with a nod.

༄

When his Uncle left, Zuko stayed on the deck and contemplated what his Uncle had told him for the remainder of their journey. Sure, it was extremely unfair that women weren’t being allowed to participate. It was a good thing Azula hadn’t been unable to come this year, because she’d most certainly have a cow if her chance to pummel someone into the ground was taken away from her. And yet, Zuko couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities.

Years of his childhood spent being forced around Princess Katara had both fortunately and unfortunately given him a wide knowledge of her and how she would react to things. Her often intricately braided hair was sensitive to being yanked on. So Type A about her organization, a single thing out of place she couldn’t fix would distract her for hours. While she could be a model and patient Princess, it was laughably easy to rile her up.

And now Zuko had some of the best ammunition he’d ever had.

The last time the Tournaments had been at the Northern Tribe, Zuko had been too young to participate, so he’d spent a lot of time taking in the sights. Their ship approached the massive ice walls that looked exactly how Zuko remembered, and high above he could see tiny waterbenders standing on the top. The wall in front of them opened with a sound only ice could make, and they sailed through into the locks that would bring them into the city.

Iroh appeared on the deck again, joining his nephew at the railing. His Uncle’s enthusiasm for the other nations had never rubbed off on him, and Zuko stood in silence while Iroh commented on the sights as they left the locks and sailed through the canals of the city. All the icy white just made Zuko’s eyes hurt.

When they finally docked in front of the palace, Iroh placed a hand on Zuko's shoulder. “Please remember your manners, Prince Zuko,” he said with a little tilt of his head.

Zuko just sighed and shrugged him off. “I _know_ , Uncle.”

Their entourage walked up the steps to the palace, and waiting for them at the large front doors were Chief Arnook and Princess Yue, surrounded by their own guards. While Iroh and Arnook shared the traditional Water Tribe greeting between men of clasping arms, Zuko folded his hands into his robes and bowed to Princess Yue.

“Thank you for so graciously hosting us, Princess Yue,” Zuko said.

Yue returned the bow, not folding over too much as to keep the mass of intricate braids and loops atop her head intact. It appeared that she, too, had on new fur robes for the occasion. “It is lovely to see you again, Prince Zuko,” she replied, offering him a polite smile, appropriate for being in the presence of the adults.

Zuko took a turn to clasp arms with Chief Arnook and Iroh to bow to the Princess. With formalities past, Arnook invited them to come inside. “The Earth Kingdom and Air delegations have already arrived, we will begin the feast as soon as I hear they are ready.”

Zuko offered Yue his arm, and they followed the two older leaders inside. Yue’s slender hand was light on his elbow. Zuko liked Yue– she at least shared his sense of honor, in terms of accepting their duties to their nations. In fact, Zuko might venture to think he would like her a lot more if she hadn’t steered him in a direction he had been hoping they wouldn’t go.

“Come!” Yue said, a twinkle in her eye. “You wouldn’t want to be _rude_ , now would you, Prince Zuko?”

“I think we both know that it would be seen as more polite to avoid each other,” Zuko grumbled in response.

Though the large receiving room was filled with people in colors of yellow, orange, green and blue, Zuko could easily spot exactly who they were headed towards. Yue’s once gentle touch turned into a grip when she sensed his reluctance.

Zuko’s gaze, treacherously, was drawn to Katara first as always. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and was smiling and laughing at something her brother had said. Her hair was done up in ceremonial braids, similar to what Yue had adorning her head, dyed blue pelts draped around her slender figure. Zuko managed to tear his eyes away momentarily to look at Sokka, who was holding hands with a red-haired girl in green robes he didn’t recognize. As Yue dragged him closer, the three of them stopped their conversation to turn and look.

Katara’s sapphire eyes locked with his, and Zuko felt a little smug as they instantly lit up with indignation. The sight of her made his blood quicken in his veins, running hot in what Zuko always chose to interpret as animosity.

Sokka already looked tired.

“Hello, Prince Zuko,” he said, but made no move to greet him or let go of the hand of the Earth Kingdom girl. With no one really watching, it was probably fine to let slip on the formalities.

“Hello, Prince Sokka,” Zuko replied, and he offered a small bow to the Earth kingdom girl no one was apparently bothering to introduce. “Katara,” Zuko added, with a glare down the bridge of his nose.

Katara’s fists were already bunched up at her sides. Yue quickly let go of Zuko and re-attached herself to Sokka’s free hand. “Hey, guys, we should go see what Koko is up to. Suki, I think you’ll especially like her.”

Suki, who must be the Earth Kingdom girl, allowed herself to be pulled away by Yue. Sokka cast back a reluctant glance at his sister, but refused to let go of either Suki or Yue’s hands, and was pulled away with them into the throng of guests.

Zuko hated Yue _so_ much in that moment.

“I was hoping I get more than a few minutes of peace before you had to arrive,” Katara said icily, and crossed her arms and turned away.

“Seems you're out of luck, Princess,” Zuko teased. He wasted no time going in for the kill. “I hear someone was a little upset about not being able to participate in the tournament,” he said in a low voice, dipping down to put his lips close to her ear.

Katara refused to turn around, but Zuko saw her entire body stiffen.

“What a shame,” he went on. “No chance for you to show off. I’m sure we wouldn’t be missing much though, considering that Pakku is supposed to be the challenger for the Water Tribe. I don’t know how much of a fight it would really be. In fact–”

Zuko stopped dead in his tracks when Katara snapped around so violently, her massive earrings swung and one caught in one of her hair loops. He saw something he hasn’t seen on Katara in forever—tears.

“You shut your mouth,” Katara ground out.

Zuko was on the verge of backing off, even considering an apology, when she lifted her hand. In his good ear, Zuko registered a sound he’d recently become reacquainted with: ice on ice. He slowly turned his gaze to the side, and noticed the spiderweb crack that’d formed on the wall beside them, tiny shards hovering near Zuko’s side.

Zuko felt his brief moment of sympathy evaporate. “Better put that back before someone notices, Princess.”

With a swift move of her hand, the crack in the wall sealed itself, but the shards of ice came up close to the uninjured side of Zuko’s face. It took all of his effort not to flinch.

“You know perfectly well if your own sister were here this would be a different story,” Katara sneered.

Zuko’s eyes flicked from the ice and back to Katara with nonchalance. “Too bad she’s not.” He lifted a hand and batted the ice out of the air, and it fell to the floor with a sound like glass. “See you at dinner,” Zuko said smartly, and walked off in search of his Uncle.

༄

By the time they had all arrived at dinner and listened to the Northern Water Tribe leaders greet their visitors, Princess Katara seemed ready for full-scale warfare.

If she were a firebender, Zuko half suspected she’d be breathing fire by now.

Worse still was that he was seated right beside her.

She’d spent the opening speech openly glowering at the Northern tribe leaders, had aggressively shoveled a chunky brown stew into a bowl, and was now eating, looking sour.

Zuko tore his gaze away from Katara, uncomfortable with the sudden realization that he had been discreetly observing her almost without interruption for at least five minutes. He hurriedly turned his attention to the various dishes laid out across the table.

Traditionally, the after dinner entertainment consisted of a show from all four nations and bending styles to prelude the coming tournament; but the cuisine remained only that of their hosts, a chance to impress the visiting nations. Zuko was only vaguely familiar with Water Tribe dishes and delicacies. Since he had no idea what to eat anyway and didn’t want anyone to hear him asking his Uncle, he served himself some of the soup Katara had chosen and took a bite.

It was completely tasteless and the brownish balls in the soup had a rubbery texture. It felt like eating snake skin. Zuko’s first instinct was to spit it out but he knew that would be incredibly offensive, so he tried to look as though he was enjoying it. He caught Chief Hakoda’s eye across the table, and the amused look on the other man’s face told him that he had not quite succeeded.

He was picking up his spoon again in a resigned sort of way when Uncle Iroh’s voice rumbled in his ear. “Here, Zuko.” He felt his uncle slip something into his hands under the table. When Zuko peered down, he saw that he was holding a box of flaming fire flakes.

“Sea prune soup can be a little bland for our palates,” said Iroh, very, very quietly.

Grateful, Zuko tipped a few of the flakes into his open palm under the table, handed the box back to Iroh, and waited until everyone seemed absorbed before quickly sprinkling them into his soup.

He was just picking up his spoon to tuck in again when Katara’s voice sounded from beside him. “Flaming fire flakes? Is our Water Tribe food not good enough for the future Fire Lord?”

Her voice carried enough that several people at the table looked over, which Zuko knew was exactly what she had been hoping for. When his gaze snapped over to her, Katara was arching a challenging eyebrow at him, her face completely serious, but her eyes were glinting.

Zuko flushed and glared at her. “Of course it is, Princess Katara. I meant no disrespect.” The others had already turned back to their food, seemingly disinterested in their little spat, so Zuko leaned closer to mutter furiously in her ear, “Wow, thanks. What’s your goal here? Humiliate me enough so that by the time I take the throne no one takes me seriously?” 

“Yes, actually, that’s the idea,” she shot back under her breath, not looking at him anymore as she scooped some sort of grain onto her plate that Zuko assumed was a side dish.

“You’re infuriating,” Zuko hissed. “Seeing you every year is a stain on my existence.”

Katara scoffed. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extremely dramatic?”

“ _I’m_ the dramatic one? I seem to remember that when this was hosted in the Fire Nation all _you_ did during meals was complain about our food.”

“No food should be that spicy. I couldn’t taste things for weeks afterward."

“So what? You can barely taste this food anyway.”

Katara’s head finally snapped over, and Zuko felt a rush of triumph and his entire body go warm when he saw that her eyes were blazing at him again. She opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by Sokka leaning around Katara from her other side. “Would you two tone it down? It’s only the first night. Geez.”

Katara and Zuko huffed, avoiding each other’s eyes, and went quiet.

But less than five minutes later, Zuko’s soup suddenly sloshed violently against the edges of his bowl, some droplets flying over the edges to splatter his front. His gaze whipped over to Katara, who wasn’t looking at him. But she was straightening out her hand with a smirk, discreetly enough that only he saw it, clearly having just bent the soup in his bowl. “You’re going to pay for that, Princess,” he growled under his breath.

Her returned whisper was laced with sarcasm. “I’m shaking in my boots.”

Zuko didn’t answer. He just scowled and waited for the opportune moment to strike, which turned out to be nearly twenty minutes later, when Katara was absorbed in conversation with Sokka on her other side. Zuko snatched the fire flakes from the floor where they sat at his Uncle’s feet, dumped some into his hand, and poured them into her soup. Then, he heated her tea.

When Katara turned back to take a bite, she gasped and dropped the spoon with a clatter. It took everything Zuko had to keep a neutral face and not laugh as she desperately opened and closed her mouth, trying to cool herself off.

“Katara?” Sokka questioned, as his sister scrambled to reach for what she thought was her cooled off tea to relieve her burning mouth. “Everything okay?”

“Just fine,” she said hoarsely, eyes watering profusely. She took a drink and then nearly choked when the hot tea surprised her. She set it down with a clatter and began fanning herself.

Zuko smugly took a sip of his own tea.

He felt her eyes on him a minute later, and before even looking at her he knew she was glaring daggers. “I’m going to break into your room and murder you in your sleep,” she breathed.

“Try it,” he taunted quietly out of the corner of his mouth, mouth twitching.

Zuko was on tenterhooks waiting for Katara’s next move as everyone slowly finished dinner, but she didn’t do anything. Zuko had the distinct feeling she was biding her time. See, _this_ was why he hadn’t won the tournament yet. This aggravating woman insisted on distracting him the entire time. Maybe that was also part of her plan.

Between dinner and dessert, Chief Hakoda stood to make a toast.

“As chief of the Southern Water Tribe, I wanted to first say thank you to our gracious hosts, our sister tribe to the North, as well as to all the guests that have traveled here. I cannot express how grateful and pleased I am that this yearly tradition continues with success, and that our world continues to live in peace. I hope it continues for many years to come.”

The guests raised their glasses in agreement.

“I also have an announcement to make,” said Hakoda, smiling. “My eldest child Sokka, future chief of the Southern Water Tribe, asked Lady Suki to marry him last week, and she accepted. I could not hope for a better companion to my son. I am so proud of both her and Sokka, and am thrilled that Lady Suki’s family and ours will join soon. To the happy couple!”

“To the happy couple!” the guests echoed, drinking deeply and cheering.

“And if you all would allow me a few final, brief words before we eat what I’m sure is a wonderfully prepared dessert,” continued Hakoda. “I would also like to express my joy for my daughter, Katara. Seeing her progress in her water-bending training has been an astounding journey, and she is already well on her way to becoming a Master, despite her young age."

Though Hakoda was still smiling kindly, there was a distinct edge in his voice when he spoke again, and Zuko suddenly realized that pride for his children was not the only purpose behind Chief Hakoda’s speech. The rest of the table seemed to have noted this already too, because a distinct tension had entered the air, a hushed sort of silence falling over the table. “It is a shame that she cannot impress you with her abilities this year because of her gender. So I want to acknowledge them here, as well as acknowledge _all_ of our great female benders. I am sure that, come next year when they are granted their right to compete, they will amaze you all.”

Zuko chanced a glance at the high table; the Northern leaders were glowering at Hakoda.

It was Fire Lord Iroh that broke the tense silence. “Hear, hear!” he called cheerily, and everyone followed his lead in crying out happily and drinking, keen to move past the awkward moment.

Soon enough, dessert was served and the mood returned to normal, with the guests laughing and chattering again, but Zuko saw Hakoda throw the Northern leaders a smirk that was not unlike his daughter’s when she felt she had won an argument.

What must it be like, Zuko wondered enviously, to have a father that always stood up for you?

He had his Uncle Iroh, of course, but his own father couldn’t be more different. Several instances always came to mind when he was reminded of this—namely the fateful day that earned him his scar—but Chief Hakoda’s open unconditional love for his daughter was something Zuko would probably never know.

His father’s harsh words were always finding his way into his thoughts.

“ _Don’t be stupid, Zuko.”_

_“Be quiet, Zuko.”_

_“_ _Pay attention, Zuko. This is why Azula is better at it than you.”_

_“It’s a shame you had to be the firstborn and not your sister._ ”

He would still jerk awake at night sometimes, still able to feel the heat on his face and his father’s breath on his ear. “Know your place in this household, and never speak to me that way again. Let this serve as a reminder that my mercies only extend to children who behave,” Ozai had seethed.

He hadn’t even bothered to help Zuko off the floor.

And now he was sitting there, with the only family he had left his Uncle and his sister, who still couldn’t let go of that deeply-embedded superiority complex, while Katara had the audacity to pout about not getting to participate in the stupid tournament, her loving father risking his own honor to make a statement on her behalf.

It made Zuko almost sick with jealousy.

He noticed his spoon shaking in his hand, and he quickly set it back down in the dish, shoving his hands under his thighs in an attempt to reduce their quivering. The moon peach akutaq in front of him was suddenly extremely unappetizing, and resentment for Katara and horrible flashbacks of his own father had come together in his head in a terrible mix.

“What, too cold for you?” Katara’s harsh voice cut into his thoughts.

Zuko responded by snapping out of his spiral, but didn’t even turn to look at her. “No,” he said hoarsely, focusing all of his energy into getting up out of his chair and muttering a halfhearted “excuse me” to his uncle. Zuko turned around and made his way straight out to one of the balconies behind their seating area as quick as he could before his sea prunes could make a reappearance on the dining hall floor. Out on the balcony, there was no more protection from the breeze, and it only seemed to increase his shaking. He squished himself into a shadowy corner where no one would be able to see him and sat down, pressing his forehead against the rungs of the balcony. Despite his shaking, he had started to run extremely hot, and his bare skin against the icy architecture caused it to start melting on contact.

Zuko let the lukewarm drops run down his face, trying to focus on the feeling and ignore all the sounds of the feast from inside to instead try and bring his temperature and heart rate back down. Loath as he would be to admit it, he counted his breaths in and out, just like Iroh had taught him to do, until his mind returned to quiet.

“Prince Zuko, you’re missing some wonderful after dinner performances.”

Zuko turned to see his uncle in the doorway. For a moment the bright lights from the room beyond him contrasted sharply with the darkness outside, and all Zuko could see of Iroh was his plump silhouette; until the Fire Lord stepped out further onto the balcony. Iroh wandered over to stand beside Zuko, joining him in gazing down into the quiet, icy streets below.

It was silent for a few minutes.

Finally, Iroh said, “It is probably a good idea to get back inside.”

“I don’t feel well,” Zuko muttered.

The violent churning in his stomach he had felt back in the dining hall was better, but he feared it would flare up again if he went into a room full of people.

His uncle gripped his shoulder, but didn’t comment. He didn’t really need to. They’d had plenty of conversations about Zuko’s father, now imprisoned for war crimes. His absent mother. Azula. Iroh seemed to implicitly know when Zuko was bothered by thoughts of his family members, and he also seemed to know when to press and when not to.

Tonight he knew to leave the topic be.

“Then perhaps it would be a good idea for you to get some rest,” Iroh suggested.

“Soon,” said Zuko, turning his gaze upward to look at the stars. “You go enjoy the rest of the show, Uncle.”

“Very well, Prince Zuko. Don’t stay too long.” Uncle Iroh squeezed his shoulder one more time before turning and shuffling inside.

Zuko wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, staring at the stars. He heard the faint noises of cheering and celebration coming from indoors, presumably when a performance ended or when the benders impressed the audience with a particularly complicated move.However long it was, it was long enough for Zuko to start feeling a bit cold, even with his parka and gloves. He’d thought the day was cold enough; but the night air in the North Pole was positively brutal.

Eventually, when the bursts of sound from inside occurred less and less often, Zuko wrenched his gaze away from the night sky and headed inside.

To his relief the dining hall was emptying, with only a few of the guests milling about in small groups after everyone else seemed to have dispersed. A few people followed him with their gazes as he trailed through the room, but he avoided catching their eye. None of the royal or noble guests were here, all seemingly having gone off to their chambers. This was more than welcomed by Zuko. He was not in the mood to keep up polite pretenses.

Unfortunately, he did not make it to his room without running into others.

As he followed the path to his chambers that he had been shown earlier that day, he heard a pair of heated voices coming from the next corridor.

“— _completely_ out of line. We expect a formal apology.”

“If you think I am apologizing to your all-male fighters because I correctly pointed out that women use their bending for combat in all of the other nations, you are sorely mistaken, Master Pakku.” Chief Hakoda’s voice was colder than the air outside had been.

Zuko stopped dead in his tracks. The voices sounded as though they were coming closer.

“You publicly disrespected our chief, our traditions, and our culture,” hissed Pakku.

“I happily respect the cultures and traditions of others, even if they are very different from my own. What I do not have to do is respect... _traditions_ of discrimination.”

The voices were coming closer. Zuko stood there, frozen, seriously considering turning and sprinting away despite the fact that his chambers were in that direction. He became even more panicked when he heard a familiar female voice.

“You’re a horrible old man,” said Katara flatly.

“Hold your abominably rude tongue, Princess Katara.” Pakku’s voice was harsh.

The group came around the corner. Hakoda’s arm was around his daughter’s shoulders, and they were both glaring at Pakku. Katara looked as though she was about to shriek something at him in response, because her face was twisted in fury and her mouth was open, but then they all caught sight of Zuko, standing as if paralyzed in the middle of the corridor.

“I—uh—was on my way to my—chambers,” Zuko said awkwardly.

His gaze flickered to Katara. She was glaring at him, fists clenched, and he again saw tears glittering in her eyes, even from this distance. Something swooped in his stomach. He recognized it as sympathy, and indignation on her behalf, which was the second time this had happened on this visit. It was entirely new ground for him when it came to Katara. It was incredibly uncomfortable. Not to mention unwanted.

“Prince Zuko. It’s an honor.” Master Pakku clasped his hands together and bowed in greeting.

“Pakku.” Zuko himself was surprised by how hard his voice was, and judging by Katara’s open-mouthed stare and Hakoda’s raised eyebrows, so were they.

Master Pakku blinked and then his eyes flashed. Zuko had dismissed convention entirely; he had not bowed in return, and he had not addressed Pakku with his title.

Chief Hakoda seemed to be fighting a laugh. “Prince Zuko,” he greeted. “Would you be so kind as to escort my daughter to her chambers? Master Pakku and I have, ah…more to discuss.”

“I don’t need to be escorted,” Katara huffed, crossing her arms.

 _Oh, this is perfect,_ thought Zuko. _All I wanted was my bed, and here I have to run into their heated conversation and escort an already furious Katara to her room. Just great._

Out loud Zuko said: “It would be my honor, Chief Hakoda.”

He made a very deliberate bow.

Pakku’s eyes flashed again.

Katara suddenly choked on a laugh before clapping her hand over her mouth, half turning away and trying to disguise the fit of giggles as coughs. For a moment Zuko was so stunned that he had made her laugh in a way that wasn’t directed _at_ him that he momentarily forgot to listen to what Hakoda was saying, and only noticed too late that the Chief had spoken to him.

“Uh…what?” Zuko asked, blinking out of his daze.

Hakoda’s mouth twitched. “I said that I am looking forward to watching you spar, Prince Zuko.”

“Oh. Right. Uh. Yeah. Thanks.” Zuko flushed and stopped himself from outwardly cringing.

He was not exactly doing well in this conversation.

“Katara, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well,” Hakoda said. “Thank you,” he told Zuko.

“Of course,” he responded, and the two men continued along the corridor, Hakoda nodding at Zuko and smiling at his daughter as he went, while Pakku just ignored them entirely.

It was Zuko that broke the silence. “Well. I don’t know where your chambers are.”

Katara sighed, a dramatic, long-suffering sigh that seemed to be directed at his presence that Zuko found entirely unnecessary. It wasn’t as if he wanted to walk with her either. “Come on,” she said, waving him impatiently the other direction.

Rather than turn left as Zuko would to head to his room, they went right at the end of the corridor.

The silence was unnatural and painful. Usually they would have been insulting each other by now, but somehow Zuko knew that now was not the best time to goad Katara. He wished he could find something to tease her about that wasn’t the sensitive topic of her inability to fight in the tournament. Seeing tears twice in her eyes already during this trip had made him uneasy. Making Katara righteously angry or irritated with him was rather funny; seeing her actually, seriously upset disquieted him in a way that he hadn’t been expecting.

“I’m, uh, sorry you don’t get to fight,” Zuko offered finally. “It’s really not fair.”

Katara’s eyes went wide in surprise and she looked up and over at him. When she seemed to realize that he was being serious, her expression got softer. “Yeah,” she agreed, quietly.

The silence returned.

Zuko wasn’t quite sure what to do without his ability to provoke her; he found himself noticing other things when he wasn’t busy antagonizing her, such as the vague tremble in her arms that gave away her lingering anger, the flush of her cheeks, or how nice her braids looked. He was eternally thankful when she finally said something else. “I never thought I’d see the day where you actually hate someone more than me.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he didn’t _hate_ her. Instead he went with the safer option of saying, “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s really hard to do worse than that guy.”

Katara snorted, but didn’t reply.

Zuko had been expecting her to make a snippy remark in return. He again struggled for something to say, mostly to distract himself from the sudden question his mind had unwittingly formulated about how soft her hair would be if she were to let him run his hands through it.

Katara finally spoke, but to Zuko’s dismay she continued venturing into the unknown territory of a non-hostile conversation. “So why did you leave during dessert?”

“I didn’t feel well.” His tone brokered no further discussion of the matter. But he caught her sideways glance at him, her eyes drifting carefully about his face, and they held something very similar to concern. For a brief few seconds they just looked at each other as they walked along until Zuko cleared his throat, moving his eyes away.

“Must have been those Water Tribe sea prunes,” he said.

Katara made a sound of indignation in her throat and rolled her eyes, looking forward again. Zuko felt his shoulders relax. They were returning to familiar waters.

“You are such an arrogant prick.”

“And _you_ are an insufferable hypocrite.”

“ _Hypocrite_?”

“Yeah, hypocrite!” Zuko smirked at the ire that had come onto her face. “Like I said, you don’t like Fire Nation food either, but somehow that’s fine.”

They halted by a door that Zuko assumed to be Katara’s. She crossed her arms and glared up at him. “Excuse me for not wanting my tongue burned off. And I haven’t forgotten your little stunt at dinner with the Fire Flakes or my tea, by the way.”

“Plotting your revenge? That’s adorable, Princess, but I’m sure I’ll manage.”

Instead of answering, Katara bent water out of the pouch she always carried on her hip, formed it into a whip, and smacked him on the forearm with it.

“Ow! Hey!”

“What?” Katara’s eyes were wide and innocent.

He could already feel that a tiny welt was forming where the water had hit him. “I have to fight tomorrow! What are you— _hey_!” She had smacked him again, this time on the other arm, and even worse, she just giggled at the look of incensed indignation on his face. “Look, don’t ruin my chances at the tournament just because you know I’m going to win and it’ll drive you crazy—”

One more smack, cutting off his words, this time right on his chest. Her eyes were alight and she just laughed harder at his annoyed expression. “Aw, can’t take a few hits, Fire Prince?”

Zuko lunged.

Katara shrieked, again starting to send a whip in his direction, but Zuko was quicker.

He caught hold of her wrists and took a few paces forward, backing her up until she was against the wall. The water she’d been bending fell with a resounding splash back into her pouch, spraying them both, but neither paid any attention. Zuko leaned forward so close that their noses were almost touching, looming over her. “Stop that now, or I’ll make you,” he growled.

“Yeah? How are you gonna do that?” she challenged.

Her eyes were fiery again. Her chest was moving up and down rapidly as she stared up at him with that familiar defiance in her eyes. Her pupils were large, her cheeks flushed, and her lips were parted, and Zuko made the horrible, _horrible_ mistake of unconsciously flicking his eyes down to look at her mouth. “You really want to find out?” He dragged his gaze upward, and found that her eyes had also been lingering on his lips. She quickly glanced up again.

Something leaped in his chest and filled it with fire, and he saw her eyes flicker and grow darker.

And then Katara’s knee shot out and hit him lightly in the stomach, making Zuko gasp and double over. She slid out of his grasp, smirking when he straightened up and fumed at her.

“No,” she said simply, sticking her tongue out at him. “Night, then.”

And then she opened the door and slipped into her chambers, grinning triumphantly at the livid expression on his face before closing the door.

༄

The next day, Zuko rubbed the sore spots on his arms while he got dressed to fight in the changing rooms below the stands. Not all of the spots where she’d smacked him had left a mark, but the one on his chest where his parka had been slightly open was looking a touch purple. Zuko sighed, looking at it peek over the top edge of his sarashi.

Not only was he a little physically sore, but he’d not slept well at all. Too many thoughts of Katara in his head; how the tan skin of her face had looked as she blushed, her eyes as she’d looked up at him under his grip, the way she’d giggled at his annoyance. He hadn’t been able to get the lingering smell of her perfume out of his nose.

Agni, she was _so_ annoying.

Zuko just had to remind himself it was all just another one of her games she liked to play to get on his nerves. She was upset she couldn’t participate herself. That was it.

Zuko tied the strings of his armor together, holding one end of the tie in his teeth while his other hand did the knot. These things were a lot easier to put on if he had help, but Zuko felt like he’d needed some alone time before he went out for his turn. He tested to make sure everything was secure, and then stepped out of his changing room to make his way to the waiting deck.

The sound of the crowds was muffled between the layers of ice and wood of the stands, but it was still easy to tell how the fights were going, with everyone cheering and groaning in unison. Between the sounds of the people and his own focus on his match, Zuko might’ve missed the sounds of agitated conversation if one of the voices hadn’t sounded so familiar.

Zuko sighed inwardly as he walked and the voices grew more prominent. How much accidental eavesdropping was he going to do on this trip? He told himself this time he would just keep walking and ignore whatever it was.

“—but what if someone finds out?”

“Tui and La, Solta, I swear no one is going to notice. We’ve got every possible angle covered! No one is going to find out.”

Ugh, not _her_ again. This was the last thing Zuko needed right before he was supposed to go out. Midway down the corridor he stopped to find Katara huddled into one of the alcoves in the wall with a water tribe man he thought he might vaguely recognize from Katara’s guard entourage. The guy looked slightly horrified that Zuko had just stumbled upon them, but Zuko just regarded the scene with distaste.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked, his eyes flitting over to Katara.

“Oh, like you know anything about anything,” she replied, her face stormy.

“What’s all this about keeping secrets?” Zuko smirked, enjoying the growing nervousness on the water tribe guy’s face almost as much as Katara’s annoyed tone of voice.

Katara huffed and grabbed the guy by the wrist, pulling him in the direction Zuko had just come from. “Let’s go,” she said, ignoring Zuko.

“Don’t worry!” Zuko called after them. “I won’t tell anyone about your boyfriend!”

“ _Shut up_!” Katara yelled back, dragging her companion around the corner and disappearing.

Zuko turned around and kept going on his way, but found himself more distracted than ever.

So Katara had a secret boyfriend? Interesting.

This was not bothersome to him in the slightest. Nor was it making him feel a weird pit in his stomach. That was just nerves. He was definitely not thinking about what Katara and that guy had run off to do just now, and it was not creeping into every corner of his mind. Everything about Katara had been so much more distracting this year than it had somehow been in the past, and Zuko just wanted to knock his head and forget all of these thoughts about her.

He finally arrived at the waiting deck, and the crowd was louder than ever. In the arena, he could see streams of fire as the benders before him finished their match.

He was still so absorbed in his own thoughts about Katara, he missed the end of the match before him. He was brought back to the present by the sudden quieting of the crowd so Fire Lord Iroh could announce the next set of challengers.

“For our last fight of the day, we have the esteemed Commander Zhao taking on the future Fire Lord, Prince Zuko!”

Zuko stepped out into the ring to meet Zhao, raising his hands in acknowledgment of the cheers of the crowd. Adrenaline brought on by the noise was starting to replace the… _other_ thoughts and feelings he’d been having, which he was thankful for. Looking at Zhao’s angry face certainly helped as well. Zuko had laughed a little to himself when he’d seen who he was paired with on the roster that morning—it must have been his uncle’s work.

Zuko breathed a little fire, both to get his temperature up in the cold air and to excite the crowd. His layers of armor did not provide nearly as much protection from the cold, but he would be bending soon enough to not have to worry about it.

“Begin!” Fire Lord Iroh bellowed.

Zhao immediately attacked full force with a massive fire lash he brought from over the top of his head. Zuko stayed in the same spot, placidly cutting it in half with hands as it came down so that it split off in a gentle arc around him. The people at the bottom edge of the stands yelped as the fire came close, a huge heatwave spreading across the arena. Zuko basked in the already furious look on Zhao’s face as a smattering of laughs came from the crowd.

Zhao came at him again, this time with a series of fire jabs. Zuko toe-stepped round the area, dodging them, snuffing them out as quickly as they came. If he could get Zhao to tire himself out quickly in the beginning, this would be an easy match.

Zhao had gotten a little more frantic with his movements, and didn’t even notice how close Zuko had come. Zuko lifted his foot up and kicked, hitting Zhao square in the chest with a powerful fire stream that sent him flying backwards.

Zhao landed on the ground with a thud, and Zuko struck out again, this time lifting his hands to throw the fire down towards his opponent. Zhao managed to get into an upright position just in time to block, and then struck out with a fire stream from his foot.

Zuko leaped in the air to avoid getting his feet burned while gathering a large fireball in his arms, aiming for where Zhao was on the ground. He barely moved out of the way in time, leaping to the side and nearly tripping. Zhao gritted his teeth and lashed out with a nearly uncontrolled stream of fire, and Zuko focused to create a fire shield to protect against it.

Even with his own wall of fire, Zhao’s flames licked around the side, nearly cocooning Zuko in fire. When he let it down, he could see Zhao was already panting.

Zuko decided to switch more to the offense. He jet-stepped up several feet in the air so he was high above Zhao’s head, and attacked down with another strong fireball. Zhao was clearly not expecting this move, and didn’t even have enough time to put up a shield, only able to jump out of the way.

Zuko landed on the ground in a crouch on the scorched patch of dirt his fireball had left behind. The crowd gasped and cheered, excited by the display.

He looked up at Zhao’s surprised face with a smirk—Azula had taught him that move.

From his place already on the ground, Zuko shifted his weight to his hands and brought his legs around, sending another arc of fire from his feet. Zhao retaliated with an attack from above, thinking Zuko vulnerable on the ground, but Zuko just flipped himself back on his feet. Zuko brought his arms around, building flame as he curled it around his body. He was so focused on building up the fire that he didn’t know how to respond when Zhao split through the wall of fire, coming at Zuko with a fire dagger blazing in each hand.

Taken aback, he had no choice but to diffuse the fire he’d been building and shift to something smaller and for closer range. Zhao struck out with his fists, almost close enough for just regular hand-to-hand. Zuko tried to focus some blasts at Zhao’s feet, but he was finding it hard to aim at such close range.

Zuko was about to resort to just bringing his leg up to kick him in the side when Zhao changed the dagger of fire in his right hand to just a burning hot flame in his palm, and began to bring it up towards the side of Zuko’s face.

Everyone in the crowd gasped in unison.

Zuko nearly panicked. Forgetting all about the fire-bending, he threw himself to the side and onto the ground again, rolling out of the way. He stopped himself by propping up on his elbow and sticking his leg out, and he looked back at Zhao, who had a wicked smile on his face.

“That was dirty,” Zuko fumed, anger running through every vein in his body.

“It’s just strategy,” Zhao countered.

Zuko got up on a knee and brought his hands up, channeling all his rage into creating the fire. The resulting intertwined fire stream was so powerful it covered Zhao’s entire body, and sent him flying into the wall of the arena.

Zuko didn’t feel one bit of regret as he smacked into the ice, and then fell onto the ground in a groaning heap.

The roar from the crowd was nearly deafening. Zuko looked to the stands where Iroh was standing. He was giving Zuko a look of concern, but it was filled with pride nonetheless. A few rows behind him were the water tribe royalty and company. Sokka, Suki, and Yue were all clapping politely, Sokka looking especially pleased by all the excitement. Katara simply sat with her arms crossed, looking unimpressed, and upon noticing Zuko looking at her she curled her lip up in distaste. The guard he’d seen her with earlier was nowhere to be seen.

Moon flowers began to litter the ground of the arena as admirers in the crowd threw them towards Zuko for his win.

A few feet away, a crown made from the white flowers landed on the floor of the arena. Zuko looked at it for a moment before moving to pick it up.

It smelled heavenly, the delicate flowers woven together tightly along with more wooden branches and wire for stability. Zuko weighted it in his hands for a moment, and looked back at the stands to find Katara pointedly talking to Yue and no longer paying attention. But Yue noticed, and gently poked her arm to get her attention back on Zuko.

Zuko tossed the crown into the stands. His aim was pretty good, and he threw it just right so that Katara was forced to catch it or have it hit her in the face.

Yue and Suki began giggling, and Sokka doubled over in laughter as Katara’s cheeks went a deep red. She glared daggers at Zuko, shoving the crown into Yue’s lap with defiance and crossing her arms again. Yue just picked up the crown and settled it onto Katara’s braids, laughing into her palm as she did so.

Zuko blew an over-dramatic kiss to a seething Katara, and turned on his heel to leave the arena.

༄

The water-bending fights took place on the last day of the tournament, so they could change the terrain of the arena from dirt back to ice. The past two days of earth-bending and air-bending competition had been decent by Zuko’s assessment. Not only did he not have to sit near Katara and her friends, he had barely seen her at the outside functions as well. _Probably spending time with that water tribe guard,_ he’d mused. This idea was something Zuko had been thinking about a lot for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint, but he just chalked it up to boredom. He and Katara’s back-and-forth at least kept these state visits interesting, if anything at all.

Today, however, he and Iroh were seated right above the Southern water tribe members in the stands. Sokka and Suki and Katara were on the bench right below him, right alongside Northern Water Tribe members like Yue and her betrothed. Both Hakoda and Arnook were at the bottom of the stands; tradition held that they would introduce any fighters from their tribes, as Iroh had announced the fire-benders.

Two fights went by, and though the crowd was cheering and engaged and enjoying themselves, Zuko thought he detected a restless sort of energy. What they were all really waiting for, he knew, was Master Pakku’s sparring sessions.

One more fight passed, and as the crowd roared afterward, Zuko noted Katara standing up.

“Where are you going?” Zuko heard Princess Yue ask Katara.

“Back to the palace. I can’t watch this.” Katara slipped out of the bench, maneuvering through the crowd, who appeared disgruntled as they moved their legs for her to shuffle by. Zuko’s eyes lingered on her exit, his gaze only drawn back to the arena when Chief Arnook began announcing the next round, both Northern water tribe members, in a loud, booming voice.

Two more fights passed. Three. Four.

Finally, Master Pakku stepped into the ring. The crowd’s volume became deafening as he raised his arms, smirking arrogantly at the crowd.

Chief Hakoda raised his arms, and silence fell. “Master Pakku’s first opponent is a new fighter. I am pleased to introduce one of our youngest and bravest men: Solta.”

The crowd seemed to deflate. No one openly groaned, but it didn’t matter. The disappointment was palpable. Zuko knew what they were thinking: it wasn’t going to be much of a competition. They _still_ were going to have to wait to watch the good stuff.

Still, there was a polite smattering of applause for the newcomer.

Zuko, on the other hand, perked up and watched with distinctly more interest than he had before, not bothering to applaud. He recognized the name; the guard Katara had been speaking to. Yet Solta appeared slender and small—much more so than Zuko remembered—his shoulders heavily padded, a wolf’s helmet obscuring most of his face.

The young water-bender got into a fighting stance, bending his knees and raising his arms, never tearing his gaze from Master Pakku. Pakku was still standing nonchalantly across the ring, a condescending smile on his face, even as Chief Hakoda moved out of the way and raised his arm.

“Begin!” Hakoda shouted.

Pakku may not have been in position, but he moved faster than Zuko could blink.

He drew his arms up, and a chunk of ice—the edges sharp and hazardous—rose up from the ground, and Pakku wasted no time sending it careening across the ring at the young warrior.

Pakku’s opponent reacted swiftly, producing a sheath of ice under their feet to glide seamlessly over the icy floor, dodging the chunk with ease. But Pakku had not let up his attack; he was sending chunk after chunk of ice flying toward Solta, though Pakku looked almost as though he were doing it lazily, without any real enthusiasm; the water-bending Master had no pretenses about who would win this match. He was toying with the young man.

Curiously, Zuko could not dredge up any sympathy, despite his strong dislike for Master Pakku.

Solta dodged left and right on their impromptu surfboard of ice, still easily skirting Pakku’s attacks and drawing closer and closer to the Master.

As soon as they were near enough they stopped skating, moving to begin running across the ice and, with one sweeping motion of their arm, bent water to create an ice ramp, sliding up and along it, curving it to the side and finally down, attempting to attack Pakku from above by sending sharp daggers of ice downward. Pakku answering strike was abrupt, putting up an ice wall to stop the barrage, and it was the first time that Pakku had to move with any urgency.

The crowd cheered and began buzzing with excitement.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be such a boring match, after all.

Solta didn’t waste any time with his next offensive strike.

Even with the distance to the stands, Zuko could see ice shards forming on the edge of his fingers, claws of ice that he then shot at Pakku with repeated flicks of his wrists.

Pakku created with a water vortex to avoid them, gathering water under his feet until it whirled about him like a tornado, moving him up and up and up until he was speeding about the ring, shooting ice projectiles downward; Solta brought water up and around him into a massive dome of ice, protecting himself from the assault just before the shards hit the outsides so fast and hard that the ice ball began to crack and shatter.

When it finally did, Solta was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, he popped out from underneath the ice, having tunneled his way behind Pakku.

The crowd went insane, and Pakku whirled, sending up a wall of ice only just quickly enough to counter Solta’s aggressive attack of ice spears, attempting to trap Pakku among them.

Pakku’s responding wave roared up with a vengeance, and for a moment it looked like the young, new water-bender was doomed, that the wave would come crashing over him and knock him backward, out of the ring, away from victory.

But at the last moment, he pulled a move Zuko had never seen before.

Solta took Pakku’s wave and bent it to his will, using it to conjure his own version of the water vortex, rising up into the air; and then he let the water go.

The crowd gasped. Many people stood up to get a better look.

There was a brief moment in time where Solta was suspended in the air, mostly defenseless, with only a few tendrils of water circling around his waist.

But then he bent the tendrils, spiraled them and twisted them until they circled his feet, resulting in something vaguely resembling the water vortex; but smaller, faster, and made of ice. Zuko only recognized that it was supposed to function as a drill just as Solta came hurtling downward. The sharp edge of it crashed into the ground, sending a rumble through the entire ring and a cloud of ice and snow upward, momentarily obscuring the two fighters.

Pakku had been shooting ice at his target in the air, but had not been expecting the drill. When the ground trembled with the force of it, he slipped, suddenly unsteady on his feet.

In a heartbeat, Solta exploited the Master’s weakness.

It was so quick that Zuko himself nearly missed it, and he suspected that half the crowd may have. Solta had sent water ropes toward Pakku, snaking around his hands and ankles.

With a jerk of his arms, Solta pulled on the water ropes, tossing Pakku out of the ring.

For a second that felt more like a full minute, the crowd was deathly silent, almost as if they were unable to process what had just happened. And then came the explosion of cheers. It was deafening. People were screaming and shouting and standing to stamp their feet, and Solta turned to face the crowd, raising his arms in triumph.

Zuko scowled.

He should have been pleased that Pakku was defeated, but instead he just felt irritable.

There _had_ to be more to this Solta guy than met the eye.

What sort of new fighter could achieve victory against a Master? And so quickly?

Zuko eyes trailed after the man as he left the ring; for whatever reason, Solta did not hover long to bask in the glory and honor of his victory. Zuko didn’t even bother to watch with satisfaction as Master Pakku got to his feet, glowering.

Instead the Fire Prince stood and, with many mutterings of “excuse me” to those sitting around him, he shuffled gracelessly out of the stands.

Perhaps Solta was hurrying back off to meet Katara.

Zuko was surprised she hadn’t stayed to watch. Did her hatred of Pakku really outweigh her desire to watch Solta?

_Secret boyfriend._

Zuko’s mouth twisted into an even deeper scowl, and his footsteps quickened.

He moved quickly enough that he caught a glimpse of the back of the wolf helmet heading away, toward one of the changing rooms. Zuko, unsure what, exactly, was possessing him to follow Solta in the first place, and also uncertain where his vexation was coming from, sped up.

There was just something about Solta. The way he had moved in the ring had been eerily familiar. And then there was the issue that he seemed to have come out of nowhere with all of that talent. _And_ he was getting close to the Princess of the Southern Water Tribe?

Completely convinced now that something was fishy, Zuko skidded to a stop before the changing room that Solta had ducked into and rapped smartly on the door.

He didn’t wait for an answer before yanking it open and stepping inside.

Zuko stopped dead a few paces in. His brain shut off entirely.

Well, almost entirely.

It was still functioning enough to process the images in front of him. Katara’s braid, swinging through the air as she turned to see who had entered. And skin. Lots of skin. She was covered, but just barely, her sarashi wraps only wrapped around her chest and her waist. For a moment Zuko just stood there and stared.

Then the volume turned back on full blast—it had been momentarily dulled when Zuko’s brain functionality had dropped off—and he jumped violently, realizing that Katara was screeching something at him. “ _WHY_ , ZUKO!? WHY EVEN KNOCK IF YOU’RE JUST GOING TO BARGE IN?!”

He realized his eyes were lingering on her bare midriff. He jerked his gaze up and stumbled a few steps backward, feeling heat flare into his neck and cheeks.

And, distressingly, below his belt.

“I—well—uh—” he sputtered.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Katara had scrambled for her dress and was yanking it on. Zuko’s eyes flew up and to the ceiling to avoid watching the sway of her hips as she did so, the heat in his body intensifying to a painfully high degree.

“I thought you were someone else!” he managed to get out.

“THAT WAS THE POINT, YOU DOLT! And that still doesn’t explain why you barged in!”

“I thought—that Solta guy—something suspicious…” Zuko growled in frustration, pinching his nose and taking a few breaths to gather himself so he could speak properly. “Look, I’m sorry!”

Slightly more clothed now, Katara marched past him and shut the door, peeking out to make sure that no one would discover her secret, and then whirled to glare at him. “Whatever, Zuko. You did this on purpose to humiliate me, didn’t you?”

“What? _No_!” He scoffed. “As if I’d try and see _you_ on purpose.”

For a moment, Katara’s face pulled together. Zuko was horrified to see that it was very similar to the pinched expression she got when she was holding back tears.

 _Why_ couldn’t he say anything properly right now? That had come out all wrong.

He’d just tried to get back to their banter and to normalcy, and away from the persistent cartwheels that his stomach was doing and the images of Katara burned into his mind, but somehow he had insulted her rather than reassured her.

He opened his mouth to try and correct it, but his brain was still fumbling and he was slow. Katara was already speaking.

“Well good!” she shouted, jabbing a finger at his chest, “Because I certainly wouldn’t want to see any more of YOU either! I get more than enough of you preening about when you train shirtless!”

Zuko’s fingertips had begun to smoke. “I don’t _preen_ _about—_ ”

Katara had stepped forward, her face screwed up in fury, leaning toward him further as she jabbed him again in the chest with her finger, sharper this time. “Oh, yes you do. Always flexing and showing off all your stupid muscles.”

Some primitive part of Zuko inwardly glowed that she had noticed his muscles. “Look away if you don’t like them,” he shot back. “I’m not showing off, I’m _training_.” His voice grew bitter against his will. “Go look at your guard boyfriend instead of complaining about me, why don’t you?”

“Ugh, you’re intolerable,” Katara snapped, stepping closer and poking him again. Zuko was burning up. The smoke coming off his fingertips was thicker now, curling menacingly into the air, but Katara seemed unbothered, because she got closer; right into his face. He was somehow both furious and was fighting the desire to put his hands on the hips he’d watched sway enticingly earlier, and the resulting inner turmoil was nearly making him dizzy. “And Solta is _not_ my boyfriend, by the way!” Katara continued hotly, pushing a stray hair out of her face and piercing him with a furious glare.

She kept leaning closer and closer to him. Zuko’s brain had gone strangely fuzzy. He was barely listening to her shout, instead suddenly very fixated on the light in her eyes and the shape of her mouth.

“Which should really be obvious by now,” Katara was ranting, chest heaving with emotion. “Anyone with _half a brain_ should have realized that, now that you know he was letting me take his place. Which reminds me, if you _tell_ anyone about this Zuko, anyone at all, I _swear_ I will—”

What Katara planned to do to him, Zuko never found out.

Overcome by something like madness and a looming sense of inevitability, he reached out to take her by the hips, drew her all the way against him, and kissed her.

She let out a very satisfying sound against his mouth that was a mix between a surprised gasp and a squeak.

But she did not push him away. In fact, she reciprocated his aggression, reaching up to yank at his hair and parting her lips so that he could kiss her deeper. He nibbled on her bottom lip, and she whimpered, actually _whimpered_ , and Zuko very nearly lost it. His fingers tightened on her hips and he spun, pressing her against the wall.

He kissed her breathless and then ducked to sweep his lips across her neck.

Zuko heard her sigh, and his blood was on fire; she was so perfectly contoured against him, so responsive, clutching harder at his shoulders and shivering in delight when he kissed a certain spot on her neck.

He was just about to lift her up so she could tuck her legs around her hips and he could press her more firmly into the wall, fully planning to run his hands wherever she’d let him, when he was startled by a loud knock on the door.

He and Katara jumped away from each other as if electrified, sharing a wide, horrified expression.

Hair was coming out of her braid in all directions, and he was sure his own topknot was not faring any better, never mind how out of breath and flushed the both of them were.

“Katara?” Sokka’s voice came from the other side of the wood, and Zuko immediately wanted to wither away into nothing as the door was thrown open.

Suki was with Sokka, and for a moment they all stood there in silence as everyone took in the situation. Sokka’s eyes went wide as saucers and he feebly pointed back and forth between Katara and Zuko as he struggled to form words. Beside him, Suki burst out laughing.

“OUT!” Katara yelled, rushing to push the door closed again. “WHY CAN’T ANYONE AROUND HERE WAIT FOR SOMEONE TO ANSWER BEFORE THEY OPEN THE SPIRITS-DAMNED DOOR!!”

“What is HAPPENING here baby sister?!” Sokka wailed, shoving his foot in the way of the door and grabbing Katara by the shoulders. “I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me that what I think is going on is _not_ going on right now.”

“What _I_ need you to do is to get out of my dressing room and not to come back for at _least_ five minutes!” Katara cried, pushing on her brother’s chest with all her might.

“FIVE MINUTES?” Sokka looked positively green, and Zuko found his back up against the corner of the room, trying to be as small as possible. “This is it. I’m going to puke.” Sokka threw up his hands and stepped back into the corridor.

“She _told_ you Sokka!” Suki managed between sobs of laughter. “You didn’t want to believe Yue, but she called it!”

“Oh, _fuck_ now I owe her thirty gold pieces!” Sokka moaned, and laid down on the floor of the hallway, acting dead. “Suki, take me back to ten minutes ago when I was still a blissfully innocent man.”

Suki caught her breath, wiping tears from her eyes. “I’ll—I’ll take care of it,” Suki said to Katara. “You guys keep it safe in there!” she said with a massive grin, before grabbing her fiance by the ankle and dragging him down the hall

Katara slammed the door closed again, leaned back on it, put her head in her hands and let out a closed mouth scream.

“So, uhhh,” Zuko started. “...does this mean me too?”

“Yes!” Katara exclaimed, her hands forming fists at her sides. “I still only have half my clothes on and a uniform to return!”

Zuko wasted no time going for the door as soon as she moved out of the way, already extremely familiar with Katara's wrath. He was halfway out when she caught his wrist at the last second.

“Wait!”

Zuko turned, giving her a questioning look.

“...come to my room later. Tonight.” Katara muttered, looking away as she said it.

Zuko took in a sharp breath. “...Okay.”

“Now _please_ leave before someone comes in here asking for Solta.”

**Author's Note:**

> We are both on Tumblr ([celestialceci](https://celestialceci.tumblr.com/), [nellasera](https://nellasera.tumblr.com/)) if you'd like to come say hi! Thank you so much for reading!


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